


Guns and Glory

by pureselfindulgence



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pureselfindulgence/pseuds/pureselfindulgence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diana has a dreadful day and misses Christie. Enter Jones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guns and Glory

**Author's Note:**

> In answer to the **whitecollar100** Challenge 162: Velvet, and the September entry for my **wc_women_fest** 12 in 12.

She'd had to shoot Moyers, _had_ to—no choice, not with that knife against Neal's throat. A friend's life saved outweighed an enemy's life taken, of course— _of course_ —but the life taken was still heavy, so very heavy. 

When Diana finally walked through her front door, she was battered by the day. There was paperwork after a death, and you just hoped to get through it before the numbness wore off. She hadn't, today, and hated it. Hated it, because she wished she was still numb.

Christie took so much when she moved out. It was only fair; they were the things she'd brought, picked, paid for. Silk cushions, cashmere throws, pretty trinkets. Lace curtains that had belonged to Christie's grandmother, and the houseplants on which Christie lavished endless care. All the soft things.

Each missing object left behind a jagged little rip in Diana's heart. She fancied she heard cold echoes from the empty shelves. She sat on the couch and closed her eyes, trying to shut out everything, everything that bruised and cut.

The knock startled her. When she answered, Jones looked startled, too. Quietly, he put down the six-pack he'd brought and offered a handkerchief. Diana hadn't realized she'd been crying.

She tried to step back, to turn away, but a gentle hand on her arm stopped her. Moving slowly, as if wary of a punch, Jones drew her into a hug. She stiffened at first, but her partner's arms were warm and comforting, and she hadn't had comfort in so long. After a moment, she buried her face in his shoulder.

"You'll see." The words, the simple _friendship_ , wrapped themselves around the day's sharp corners, cushioning them like lengths of velvet. "It'll all get better someday. It will."

Perhaps Christie hadn't taken _all_ the softness.


End file.
